


(Not so) Blond Ambition

by Loupgaros



Category: Fallout 76
Genre: Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knifeplay, M/M, don't try to get one over him, enclave (Fallout 76), lukacs isn't any better, marcel's constant scheming, marcel's temper, please read the tags, these two absolutely hate each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loupgaros/pseuds/Loupgaros
Summary: Lukacs thought he'd lucked out with meeting his mystery contact. Akeen hunter of any remaining Free States militia, Marcel himself seemed like a perfect partner in crime. But with a reluctance to reveal his origins, his goals or even his last name, Lukacs decides the easier way to get ahead with the newly-discovered M.O.D.U.S. ZAX unit is to act alone.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 2





	(Not so) Blond Ambition

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so stop right there.
> 
> You've gotten this far but have you really read the tags? Go back and make sure. I just want to check. 
> 
> Like anyone I have dark thoughts and dark characters give them some sort of voice. But at the end of the day, I'm just too nice to really do anything on them. And I'd rather not to be fair. But to write things like this, it's fun! It's cathartic. Just occasionally, it's good to let the beast out a little then put it back in its cage. 
> 
> it's not my first attempt at writing this. But it is my first fallout one. The next one I have planned will be a little different but first I have to finish one that's definitely a lot nicer and has humour. So if this sort of thing is your bag, I'd say enjoy but... Yeah, why not.

**Marcel**

_ Entry 26 _

Our last prisoner was a week ago.

It looks pointless but I’m with Marcel on this. The Free States is still out there. Smaller numbers certainly and I think we can chalk up many of their losses to us. We just have to keep looking. 

I’m keeping an eye on the radio signals. But something I noticed has… It has resurfaced and it’s not the first time. 

I hardly know  _ who _ this man is. I can see  _ how _ he is, especially with the prisoners. He’s always calm, collected but that one look in the eye says he’ll escalate our torture if he has to. I took the lead in the last interrogation but he still somehow… He still leads it. It’s in part beautiful but at the same time, I can’t help but think that it’s dangerous. 

For now, it’s very useful. 

But I don’t know  _ him _ . We met 3 months ago, a rather elaborate ruse. The four men I’d ingratiated myself with suspected nothing, except that fucker Roddy. He listened to too much. He had to go. And Marcel comes out of nowhere at my signal with two assaultrons, destroys them all to ash. I was impressed. Maybe a bit hard from it. Damn, when he said he had a trap, he had one. 

But… I keep coming back to this and it’s harder to write each time. I don’t know him. We’re pretty much working together for a similar goal, even friends with considerable benefits to myself. But I really don’t know how far I can trust him. 

Set encryption to standard.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Lukacs looked up from the fire he was stoking under the cooking pot at his companion. 

‘Food’s up.’

They were both sat outside the heavy concrete bunker located in the Mire, one of many in the small network the Free States had set up. His companion set aside the knife he was using to whittle the wood and sauntered over casually. 

They were both fundamentally opposite, Lukacs mused. He was the taller of them, not unhandsome to many with steely blue eyes and a light blond complexion. He looked like he should be the posterboy for some military campaign and he cultivated that look deliberately. 

Marcel though. Him. He could be described as dark in all aspects and not just with how he presented himself. Black hair, dark brown eyes that never stopped moving and a strange catlike grace in every motion that only added to how many questions Lukacs had. 

They’d only been travelling as partners in crime (and perhaps more) for about 6 months now. It was a fruitful partnership. Together they had bagged 10 Free States traitors and were on the trail of another. Lukacs was tactics, Marcel was a lot of brawn but applied with a fair bit of intelligence. It somehow worked well. 

But… There it was again. That feeling. Marcel was good.  _ Very _ good. They had both decided their mission was to remove any Free States militia from Appalachia and he was starting to think Marcel was just that little more dedicated to it than he was. Or maybe to the infliction of pain in general. He’d enjoyed the ‘talk’ with their last captive a little too much. 

The day ended as it had begun. They went inside, covering the tracks of their meal. Lukacs carried the pot inside and let the turrets do their work of keeping the anglers at bay. 

**************

The bunker was comfortable. The Free States rogues had tried to emulate the vaults and made it more homely than those could ever be. It was theirs now. 

Lukacs stirred awake to see Marcel was up before him. Huh. Odd. 

Most evenings were the same. They’d plan their next moves inside in the warmth and to round it off, a display of just how much stamina Marcel had under the sheets. And more frequently, out of them. 

He didn’t have the usual aches this time though. Marcel had gone easy on him even if the faint marks on his neck, where a large hand had held him tight, in a certain light didn’t show it. 

He found Marcel by the planning table near the kitchen. The man hadn’t bothered to put on more than a dressing robe. Lukacs found himself amused by it. As he approached, Marcel tilted his head just a little.

‘Good morning. I shall have breakfast ready soon. You are hungry, yes?’ The voice still got him. It never quite matched the outward appearance of the man. Gentle, with the trace of a French accent he couldn’t place.

‘Always. Your cooking’s worth it.’ He sat by the map then raised a brow as Marcel moved a pin a little to the left. ‘Hey. That was exact. That was just where I found that traitor.’

‘No, it was not. It was just there.’ Marcel simply stated. ‘We are running out of pins too. No matter. I go to see to the breakfast.’

And he was up, heading to the indoor stove in the kitchenette. 

Lukacs didn’t question it but did lean over to the new pin location. Huh. Maybe he was right. He shrugged.

****************

_ Entry 40 _

I find myself remembering something again.

A month after we met, he had the two Assaultrons destroyed. 

I hadn’t minded them but he never really said where he got them. I asked and he said something vague like ‘Oh I reprogrammed them and they follow me now.’ So I didn’t ask any more and left it. I mean… They were useful. But I wished they’d not stayed in the bunker. 

No bigger mood killer than hearing those fucking feet stomping outside our bedroom door. And having to be quiet in case their programming decided it was… Look, you get the idea.Why do I have trouble writing that? 

Anyway I mentioned it to him. I said they needed to be useful.

So the fucking idiot smashes them. He took them outside. But I bet he didn’t give them a chance either. 

I like the man. But I wish he’d use his fucking brain. 

Again, I have questions. A lot of them. 

Set encryption.

*******************************

It was another day of hunting. Another signal had been intercepted. They’d both had codewords applied to them this time, how very flattering. He liked to think Ghost was his.

The hunt was quiet as it should be. It didn’t keep his thoughts from running though.

Marcel didn’t just come into your life, they said. He knocked the door down, grabbed you by the throat and forced you to pay attention to him. You found yourself starting to see him everything you did and knew and wondered how you got on before. 

It certainly helped the man was hugely physical and charismatic, beyond how he looked. He could stride into an open clearing casually and you’d feel you were intruding on a huge personal bubble. He carried himself with such ease. Lukacs couldn’t help but feel jealous. 

And yet Marcel remained constantly cagey. He recalled he’d once asked about the unique French accent as he’d never heard it before. ‘Is it… Quebec? Orleans?’ He’d asked innocently hoping to get some opening of the book that was his mysterious companion. 

Marcel had simply looked at him with what could only be described as a warning look before it went in a blink and was replaced by the quiet amused smile and the reassuring voice. ‘It’s simply an accent I picked up. I travelled a fair bit. It was only natural.’ 

That had been that. It hadn’t answered the question but the brick walls were thrown up high, impenetrable to even the most adept interrogator. He hadn’t tried since.

He wished he knew more about the man. Something told him he shouldn’t go there, what he had seen was enough. 

Back to the hunt. It was a dud. The radio signal was a lone radio out in the Mire, stuck to a tree.

Lukacs stared at it in abject disappointment then shook his head. 

Marcel, without any warning, smashed the radio into pieces.

  
  


**M.O.D.U.S.**

_ Entry 50 _

Have I mentioned I don’t trust computers? Not terminals. I mean ones like M.O.D.U.S.

We found him a week ago and the fact he still seems curiously unchanged is unnerving to me. I understand ZAX units were built to last but even so, he bothers me. When computers have personality, it does bother me. 

He made us an offer. Help him out and we get access to everything. He seemed to be recruiting us. And he seems to recognise intelligence. This is something I can get behind so he’s not completely terrible. I will say he noted my presence with great approval. Clearly, someone human programmed this thing.

Long story short, we had to reactivate his pet satellite, the Kovac-Muldoon. What a fucking adventure that was. My sprinting has never been tested more than with those big green fuckers. But we did it. The Kovac is operational. 

Now I get to the part I’m not so keen on. Marcel wants to use the Kovac for our activities. I won’t lie, I don’t see this working. 

They hid well after the war. I mean, will it class them as commies? And the main thing… I like the sport of it. I like chasing signals. I like finding them, bearing down on them like they’re prey. The hunt is why I got in on this shindig. And the Kovac would only diminish it. What’ll it do, launch a strike on them?

I’m taking a few days out to think on this. He’s still at the Whitespring. I’ll wait but if he’s on his way back, it won’t be long. 

Set encryption.

**************************************************

The bunker at Whitespring put the Free States ones easily to shame. 

It was beautiful. Immaculately decorated and no human at all, just robots. Even they were pristine. And of course, there was M.O.D.U.S. himself. Lukacs could not see him as anything other than an male AI. 

Lukacs paced about the bar area and watched the robots as they stumped along their designated paths. He was about to leave but something bugged him. He wouldn’t leave yet, not until he could ask something of Marcel. 

He found the man looking through files. Motioning quietly, he lead Marcel to the bar seating. It was the only place thus far that had no M.O.D.U.S. screen. 

‘Marcel, I think we should think about things.’

The man raised a brow. Lukacs tried again. ‘He’s going to give us this. That’s great. But I’m worried. I can see you want to use the Kovac more but can we think about how it’ll fit in our plans first?’

‘We can. But you are as intelligent as I am. You can see how it performs. It’ll be nothing but an asset.’

‘Maybe. But Kovac destroys in a huge blast. We are all about stealth. Outing the traitors, making sure they squeal about where their cell is, go again. It’s connections.’ Lukacs sat back. ‘I know it’s how you operate too. You like the hunt as much as me.’

Marcel nodded slowly. ‘I also like efficiency. And I have to say, what is on offer will make things easier.’ The man offered his ever-present smile. There was a hint of teeth. ‘What scares you about this, friend? Maybe because it takes agency from your little initiative?’

Lukacs bit. Coldly, he stood up. ‘I’m not scared. Worry is not being scared. And I’ll have you know this always was my initiative. You just happened to join in when it suited you.’ 

He started to walk to the entrance. ‘I’ll be in the bunker. You’re still welcome but remember that this always was my idea.’

***********************************

Marcel returned after 5 days. He walked in as nothing else had been said and Lukacs hadn’t commented. 

Maybe he had missed Marcel after all. It had been a boring few days in the bunker. 

The planning was shorter and had once more turned to MODUS and his instructions. It could have been an argument. But Lukacs had ideas and had decided to sweeten Marcel a little. 

‘You’re right. We could use Kovac but perhaps still have the elements of the hunt we both like.’ He took a gulp of the beer he had found on a scavenging trip. ‘It’s simple. I use my radio expertise to find signals. We investigate. If there’s a cell of Free States there, or any other enemy of the states for that matter, you can get the Kovac to do an orbital strike. Easy enough.’

Marcel tilted his head to the side as he did in thought. ‘You have certainly calmed down about this. Are you sure that you agree to this?’

‘Positive. I needed some time to think and the past few days was just what I needed.’

Marcel gave a slow nod as if not completely sure. ‘I see. Then it was good you came round to this. We will still work together and it is still your initiative, yes?’ 

‘Yes.’ For now, the unspoken words rattled in his head. For now, yes. But men like Marcel could be tricked. Lukacs was not stupid. He had had time to think, time to plan. 

M.O.D.U.S. would surely see him as the best and brightest. Lukacs would see to it. 

*******************

It was a humid night in the Mire. But not as humid as in the bunker Lukacs and Marcel had called home. 

The blade was slid over pliant flesh, the steel warmed from the heat of Lukacs’ skin, applied firmly with just enough pressure. It made Lukacs twitch and squirm in all the best ways. 

The edge was just there on the, ha, edge of sensation, a reminder that if he so much as moved wrong, a nick and world of pain was his. It was almost worth trying it just to see if Marcel would dare turn the blade to do so.

All Lukacs could see was the roof of the bunker. Dulcet tones had told him in past sessions that if he ever so much as looked to see where the blade was applied, the pleasure ride would be over. 

For all Marcel’s faults and foibles, this was one rule he’d never break. Because that man could do things with a balanced combat knife blade that’d make anyone crave this, even if they hadn’t before. 

Breathing heavy. Forcing his gaze upwards and closing his eyes to focus on that one rule for a little more of that delightful blade playing across his skin. Hands held very firmly by his side despite their constant twitching.

He could easily have been tied down. His eyes masked by a cloth to make it easier. But both of them knew the truth. This was how it was supposed to be, with Lukacs barely just holding control of himself and Marcel pushing his self control to the limit. 

The blade was moving inexorably upwards. The hand that guided it knew its way around blades. Enough pressure just here, grazing with a sharp edge just there. Lukacs found it hard to stay quiet. 

The temptation to just raise a hand to the aching hardness just there was apparent. The thought goaded him inside his head but he resisted. He didn’t need to touch himself. If the blade moved one more time, he’d be tipped over the edge. 

Then Lukacs almost broke the rule with a throaty whine. The pressure was at his neck. The blade was  _ just _ on his jugular and he could feel the edge of the blade there  _ so _ much more clearly. 

His eyes swerved quickly to the ceiling. He felt his heart racing, so much it might burst. Another twitch from below as panic mixed with pent-up arousal in a heady cocktail of hormones. It was a feeling he was used to but even so he was sure his breathing was sounding more uneven. 

The blade shifted but barely. One wrong move.  _ Don’t move, don’t move, dontmovedontmove _ ... 

‘You know our signal. I’ll remove it once I see it.’ The voice was silken, purring almost. You could feel the grin in every word. 

Lukacs raised his hand gingerly and gave the signal. 

True to his word, Marcel did remove the blade and his hand pinning the shoulder in a death grip. Lukacs hadn’t even registered that.

Relief, oh sweet relief! It flooded through him, just enough to drag him over that edge he’d been held at for so long and all he could utter was a low deep sound in his throat as he sank back gratefully into the bed after a frantic twitching taht shivered through him from the bottom of his spine.

‘Such a mess.’ He heard Marcel on the edge of the blissful peak. ‘Now that’s out of your system, a break before part 2, yes?’ 

He just nodded. 

*****************

_ Entry 70 _

He has to die. 

M.O.D.U.S chose me. He saw Marcel as the brute. That’s all there is to it. 

This  _ was _ my plan. He thinks he can goad me. Hah. He’s more stupid than he realises. 

We need men like Marcel at times. Cruel ambition and brute force. They make great war leaders and raider leaders and, you know, get shit done sorts. But then you need the ones like me. I can work out what happens after and build on it. Marcel’s time is through. 

It has taken a long while for a plan to kill him but I think I could do it. I’ll get him next opportunity. 

Set encryption

******************************

The following morning saw him blink the sleep from his eyes and focus. Still the same ceiling. He looked down then to his side as a soft familiar snoring next to him. Slowly he heaved himself up and swung his legs out of bed. 

The combat knife that had been so skilfully used on him earlier was still there. Still immaculately clean. He bit his lip. 

This could be the place. Marcel was in deep sleep. He wouldn’t even feel the blade slice this throat. There’d be no holding back, just a slice then it’d be over. 

But then he’d have to dispose of the body. And blood stayed in fabric for longer than he’d have liked. He liked the bunker and to have it be the scene or a murder was a little more than he could bear. 

But he had no such attachments to the Whitespring. It’d be the work of a moment to dispose of him. 

Yes. They’d go to the Whitespring. They were close to promotion already thanks to Marcel but that’d be where it’d end. It’d be the shortest promotion ever. 

It was his turn to grin.

*****************************************

**_Whitespring_ **

They were back at the Whitespring. A few days of activity to get the Kovac going had meant they had passed all requirements to become generals. Easiest promotion ever but not a bad way of doing it. Actions meant more in the Enclave it seemed. It was something Lukacs could get behind.

Lukacs was feeling positive as they entered the exam terminal room. As they approached M.O.D.U.S. he also seemed to be smiling. It wasn’t a Marcel kind so that was something. 

‘ _ A busy few days, gentlemen _ .’ The computer voice would take some getting used to. 

‘Yes. I feel the Kovac-Muldoon has been through its paces now.’ Lukacs said quickly. He side-eyed Marcel. ‘Thanks to both of us. Now does this mean we get that promotion and help you further?’

He’s framed it cleverly he thought. The computer seemed nonchalant to it. 

‘ _ Go to the next room and see. Members at any rank, I may remind you both, help our goals _ .’ M.O.D.U.S.’ screen flickered. ‘ _ But at times like these, you may both serve better in roles less… menial _ .’

Marcel simply grunted in affirmation as they headed to the next room. The huge map dominated their vision but it didn’t distract from the prize. Lukacs watched as Marcel accepted the promotion with his usual smile. 

‘So, Marcel. What do you think? General Marcel… what is your last name?’

‘O’Brien.’ Marcel turned to Lukacs. ‘It is not one I use often. But what of you, friend? It has been a long hard struggle. And your little initiative has certainly been noticed.’ He smiled as he picked up the uniform. ‘Matched by an equally sharp uniform.’

Ah yes. Lukacs looked at the uniform he too seemed to have. All sharp edges, a nice mix of blue and what looked like a military yellow colour.He was still trying to decide if the shirt was blue or blue-grey. ‘It was worth it. And I couldn’t have got here without you.’

‘You flatter me. Ah! I know. We should celebrate. I’ll see if the bar has a bottle of wine.’ Marcel strode to the bar and was out of sight. 

Lukacs got changed in what he imagined as a war room. It fit like a glove. A little snug. But still very much worth every step this had taken. He began to comb his hair in his reflection as Marcel returned. Hearing two glasses clink on the table, he turned around.

‘The uniform fits the man.’ He beamed and watched hawk-like as Marcel poured them a generous measure. Picking up the glass, he took the barest sip. His co-conspirator seemed to gulp half of it down. Taking another sip, he began to pace about the room, speaking calmly. ‘And… I’m afraid there’s only room for one of us on this little trip to the top.’

The 10mm clicked, safety off. He saw Marcel’s eyes flicker to the gun before he downed another gulp. ‘Ah.’ He seemed disinterested. ‘So now I see the game.’

‘Oh Marcel. You think I didn’t see you using me? This was all my plan. I worked with you to further my goals and yes, I got angry after your jibe. Because I could see your little mind racing to take it over and get me out of the picture. You couldn’t stand to see me being successful.’ Lukacs smirked then put his glass down. 

‘I’ll celebrate when I’m done with you. You’ve been a thorn in my fucking side. Do you have any idea how often I fantasized about killing you? The ways I imagined were various, each more gruesome than the last. And every action you do, it just makes me want to wipe you from the face of the earth all the more.’ 

Full flow now. Oh he’d wanted to say everything he could have said right now. Make the fucker aware of just how useless he was. He stayed at his distance, the gun always steady on Marcel.

‘You’re a brute. You could have reprogrammed those Assaultrons. You could have kept that radio still going. And all you think of is ‘Oh nothing’s working out, I’ll just smash it in temper!’ And I knew our last prisoner would talk. But you caved his fucking skull in just as I said I was taking over! It’s all brute force with you! You think that computer asshole out there wants that?’

Marcel’s expression could only be read as blank. Lukacs growled, his temper rising. 

‘Oh and I just know you know this so it’s no secret. Yes. I wanted this promotion. I wanted to use Kovac. I want every bit of information this place has and have M.O.D.U.S. as my fucking bitch. This was my game, Marcel. And you don’t fit in that!’ 

Marcel stared at the gun focussed on him and finished his glass. Then he stood up, poured another generous measure and walked slowly over. 

‘Are you done yapping, little doggy? Has little doggy had its bark now? Because I think I have something to say.’

He moved so quickly. The glass was put down. But then his back hand swiped the gun from Lukacs’ grip. It clattered harmlessly to the ground. Staring right into the blond’s face, Marcel’s eyes were fierce and bore very little humanity there at all. 

His lip curled back and both hands shot out quickly to grab the standard issue Enclave tie. The neat knot was yanked up and now that and Marcel’s fist were right into Lukacs’ throat. The man flailed and tried to secure a weak grip onto the large hands but could only claw helplessly. 

‘Now then. Little doggies stay quiet or there’ll be a lot worse. I’ve put up with your yap for long enough. 6 months of you talking at me, trying to find out who I am, so many questions.’ His voice remained steady despite his heavier breathing. ‘I am not here to make friends. I am here to do my job. And you won’t get to hear what that is. I am not like you, Mr Yappy Dog.’

Lukacs’ squirmed. He was feeling faint, the ceiling seemed a long way off. He buckled to his knees. Marcel only adjusted his grip and slammed his fist back, yanking the tie knot. 

‘Do you like that? You always did enjoy when I just about choked the life from you. But I held back. It was more fun to see you turn blue. But maybe… Yes. I could get used to this. Seeing you on your knees before me, where you truly belong.’ Another twist and he only chuckled as Lukacs gurgled.

‘You’d make a poor general. Just my casual observation. But I tire of you. Time to end this.’ He released Lukacs just long enough to dart behind him, yank the tie securely about his neck in a makeshift garrotte and squeeze.

Lukacs couldn’t see anything now. It was blurry, unfocussed. His heart was racing, his body trying to get any air it could. But Marcel was very good. Garrottes were his speciality. 

It was long. It was agonising. And Lukacs’ body slumped to the ground with a crushed throat by the sheer pressure applied. 

Marcel waited a moment. He was breathing heavily despite how calm he’d sounded. When he felt his heart slow back to normal and his breathing steady, he stepped over the body and took the wine. 

‘Not a bad vintage.’ He mused to himself then saw his uniform. Well. No better time. It fit, a bit snug in places but he’d make adjustments. Then he picked up the 10mm, put the safety on and headed out. 

M.O.D.U.S. greeted him with what could be taken as caution. ‘ _ I heard a disagreement. I hope my newest promoted members are getting on. It’d be a shame if we didn’t work together _ .’

Marcel shrugged. ‘He… Ah, he turned out to be a traitor himself. It was my duty as an officer to ensure he was dealt with. There was no blood. I will dispose of him myself.’

‘ _ Ah good. Can’t have traitors in our midst _ .’ M.O.D.U.S. seemed to shrug in his inflection even if he was only a face on a screen. ‘ _ But let’s talk. I hear you have a little goal I may be able to help you with _ .’

Marcel replied with a feral grin. ‘That you can, friend. As I may be able to help you.’


End file.
